Entropy and Other Musings - Happy Dagger (different ereaders txt) 📗

The Only Promise Kept

Gabriella's blood pressure was up.

She replied via keyboard, "I don't know why you all are so mean to me. I go out of my way to help and support everyone."

Her left arm felt numb,

Clicking the 'ENTER' button, her last words: "I never do anything wrong. Don't you think?”

Entropy

"His eyes were green."

"No, they were blue," The guard finished the conversation by placing his mired boot against the back of a body and yanked out his long sword. It was filthy.

His head rang and his stomach was sour from last night's drinking of cheap wine.

The second entry guard sat on is iron helmet, his sword laying flat across his lap. Neither was prepared for the insane necromancer's attack against the village.

The first guard rolled the body over. It was other guard's grandmother, staring at him with bright dead eyes.

"He has been raiding the graveyards."


Matted long blond hair dangled like hemp rope, covering his face. Both hands were placed firmly on the stone altar; the cold feel of the granite was his only comfort.

"So it continues, as it must."

Sweating and breathing heavily, he was exhausted by the amount of power he had to wield to conjure and animate the six corpses for their attack.

"Those drunken fools, their luck exceeds their skill."

The necromancer did not plan for the guards sneaking drinks in the nearby tool shed. They were on him before he could accommodate their unplanned ambush.

"I am getting old."

Wearing her scratchy grey chemise, she ran into the moonless night. The blacksmith, that was dead and buried three weeks ago, busting through their hovel, woke her.

She fled through the one window they had, forgetting about the plight of her family members.

She slowed her pace; she was completely lost. She could see nothing; the croaking of frogs expressing their need to copulate was her only clue.

"Okay, it is okay. I am near the river."

She looked behind herself, noticing small distant lights. As she walked up the incline of a hill, the torches illuminated a standing figure.

The tinkling of the rushing river and the croaking of frogs dissipated as the villager trudged up the hill.

Desperate to escape the blinding dark, Daphne grew closer to the ominous standing figure at the summit of the hill. She stopped, re-thinking her decision. The figure was a man in a robe and his back was to her.

As Daphne Attempted to slip away, her plans were ruined by a strange low clanking of heavy wind chimes.

They were not chimes but the rattling of bones. A fire was lit; a walking skeleton with a glistening skull held the torch.

Hopping from one thatched roof to another, the magpie's feverish pinpoint eyes took in the scene. His trigger happy neck twitched with fierce accuracy, viewing the aftermath of the crisis that befell the village.

All six of her master's animated dead were destroyed. A makeshift pyre was built and the men were carrying the rotted remains to feed the flames.

One woman grasped at her neck, despairing. The magpie's head twitched, noticing a flicker of metal. The woman shrieked as the magpie's sharp beak snapped the weak leather thread of the necklace and flew off with the odd shaped moonstone.

Mateo lifted his head in excitement. Grabbing the ceremonial silver plated dagger from the altar, he gashed his left palm with the blade.

"Aaaah!"

As the fresh blood dripped from his hand, Mateo chanted, "Hayeehdaniyae-Ma. Dobbeleah Salleoooo!"

Mateo went blind, replaced by a circular vision that projected from his forehead. It was of the magpie with the prize in his beak.


"My pet, you have pulled victory from the jaws of defeat," Mateo's head turned to see another vision. From the point-of-view of the skeleton; a peasant girl stands frozen before him. "Grandfather, you honor me with an unexpected surprise."

Cauliflower, the village wizard, trolled his way to the front of the mob, heading toward the betrayer’s hide out. Wrinkling the corner of his sunken eyes, he spotted the fettered glow of dark magic. After an ostentatious burp, he pulled out an old apple tree twig and pointed.

A boned hand clasped around her neck, Daphne suffocated. A green bolt of energy shattered the skeleton’s pelvis. Free of his grasp, Daphne sputtered for air and in a panic ran.

Mateo fell to one knee, as if the bolt hit him. He sputtered, “Oh, Grandfather. What have they done to you?”

Spiraling, diving, into a free fall, the magpie descended. The magpie escaped his death roll and regained altitude. A surge of urgency flooded the creature’s body as he darted home to his master.

The clanking of dull iron against wooden shields congratulated Cauliflower’s success. Smirking with appreciation, he gestured for the troop to desist. “Thank ye, boyeez. How’ever, we aint out of the fray, yet.” Obediently, the village guardian’s got back in formation with their weapons drawn.

Spear-heading the rest of the locals, the one wizard and a handful of self-ordained militia charged up the hill to assault the necromancer.

So - tired. Hurry my pet. They are nearly on me. Annoyed, Mateo knew he had to at least try to summon the spirits, to distract, to horrify all who remained on the hill. Drained from all reserves of manna within him, the necromancer went through the motions to wake them.

A bolt of mystic green whizzed by Mateo’s left ear. The surge of the missile damaged his incantation, causing him to fall to the ground.

Lifting his head from the stone tablets of the altar, he saw her. Daphne hesitated before turning away from his gaze – her last mistake.


Nearly to the summit of the hill, gaining on the mob, the magpie swooped past them and turned back. Cauliflower never saw it coming. A sparkling glint of the moonstone distracted him. The black beak, small razor claws, and the haunted flapping of wings wounded him.

Daphne, doe-eyed, drew closer to Mateo. Standing in dingy robes, he spread his arms wide, ready to enfold her.

Bouncing from his prey, retreating from the Cauliflower’s bleeding disfigured face, the Magpie flew as men came to protect their wizard. Within seconds, the magpie made it to the top and dropped its precious cargo.


“Leave me, you fools!” screeched Cauliflower, “He is getting away!” Beating their shields with their common weaponry, the militia and the remaining villagers charged the hill.

Her neck cut, Mateo pocketed the ceremonial knife. Daphne, limp within his arms, he looked to the sky and commanded, “Magana come! We must go.”

Squeezing the moonstone in his hand, Mateo caught the shadow of the magpie dive into Daphne’s slit throat. He said, “Grandfather, I have failed you. Your sacrifice will not be vain. I will return.”

Mateo escaped in a toxic cloud of smoke, a parting pandemic to his approaching enemies.


Waycko's Honor

"Jackal One, to Ring Leader -over."

"Romeo, Jackal One."

“What are we doing here, Walter?"

"The mission is to clear out the inhabitants."

"We need Infectorz for that, correct?"

"What's your point Jackal One."

“Where are they?"

"They will be here, in good time. Keep the line clear."

Smacking the canopy of his Prospero V corvette with his fist, Dalio chimed in, "Roll Call! Jackal One - out"

"Jackal Two - out"

" Jaaaaackaaal Three- out a here."

Twenty–five small star ships split and flanked both sides of the star carrier: Caliban's Wake.

Piloting the carrier, Commander Walter Waycko, chewed his lip. The 'Heads Up' display on Caliban's Wake flickered; three squadrons of guardian ships raced from the planet of Bolera.

Ignoring protocol Walter shouted, “We got a bevy of Crack Pipe Johnnies flying our way. Time to ball up and grind your way out of this love-fest!"

The Prospero corvettes split into five organized squads and flew to meet the enemy. Irritated, Walter popped the cap off of his bottle and poured a stiff one into a tumbler.
“Those poor bastards," Walter leaned over to wind an ancient egg-timer for nineteen minutes.

Glass to lip, he, greedily, drank his guilt away.

Bolera was rich in resources. When it came to planetary defense, they could afford the best. The Kraken P-class cruisers were circular terrors: tri-polymer shields, level 12 firepower, and long range attack modifiers.

The Prospero V corvettes, paled in comparison. Bearing a level 8-firepower and an 8 ground attack capacity, the Prosperos lacked the sophistication of the Krakens. “Just remember, it’s not the ship, but the pilot that wins wars –out.” Walter rolled his eyes.

Jackal 22 was the first to go. Neither bright or well trained, recruit Sandivol, broke point in Karl Whale's squad. Indulging in another shot of moonshine, Walter prepared for what high command called the "Glow and Burn". Sandivol's dented corvette lit up like a red dwarf. The ship flared bright and then was extinguished by Kraken lasers; evaporating into the abyss of space. The remaining Whale squad shot past the Kraken's defenses in four different directions.

Waycko watched the screen with interest. Very, smart - Karl. It’s unfortunate that your shyness has hidden such talent.

The rest of the squads flew with a uniform predictability. They assaulted the first line of Krakens. The thought of following Karl's lead of splitting up, escaped them. Walter sipped from his glass. Jackal 2, 3, 4, and 5 were extinguished. The Krakens saw no point for evasive maneuvers. Jackal 1 dragged his heels on the approach. Dalio yawed upward, abandoning his decimated squad.

Walter grinned. Dalio, your insolence barely exceeds your cowardice.

The Baleran pilots changed tactics; their third line of Krakens split up and chased Karl’s group of fugitives. The surviving Prospero squads flushed past the first line of Krakens and fired, full-force, into the second line. Three Krakens were destroyed with four others glowing, slightly, as their shields held up.

Walter’s com-link buzzed with activity. Squad leader Blane, Palin, and Goldbaulm were tearing up the air waves with verbal victory cries. Walter shook his head and yawned. Checking the egg timer, ten minutes had passed.

The trio of Prospero star ship squadrons pursued the second line of Krakens. Nodding his head, Walter watched the first line of Krakens rotate a full 360 degrees; aiming their guns to squad’s rear.

“Here we go.”

The second group of Krakens split into two separate, angled lines. The Prospero ships were contained within a triangular parameter.

Walter winced. He yanked his com-link off and placed it on his desk. It vibrated with panic. The volume of the voices could still be heard from the receiver.

“Ring Leader. Walter! Come get us! They have …”

Jackal 6 went black on the display: adding another digit to the casualty counter software.
Desperate demands howled from the abandoned com-link. Walter leaned back in his chair.

He whispered, “Here we go.”

The Kraken ships powered-up and shot an array of missiles and laser fire into the trapped star ships.

“Glow and burn.”

Six minutes later, Jackals 7 -19 shined brightly and faded from the display.
Jackal 23, Morell Jones, was the next sacrifice; decimated